


Rejuvenate

by orphan_account



Series: Atrophy/Rejuvenate [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Chubstuck, Fat - Freeform, Fatstuck, Fluff, Homestuffed, Hurt/Comfort, Immobility, M/M, Medical issues, Near Immobile, Past Abuse, Stuffing, Weight Gain, fat kink, lots of fluff, mental issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Karkat, too fat to do most anything on his own, is scared of his own health. In an impulse decision, he calls Eridan to help him.Eridan drops everything to do just that.[an alternate ending to Atrophy.]
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Karkat Vantas
Series: Atrophy/Rejuvenate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703620
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	Rejuvenate

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate ending to Atrophy, which can be found in the first part of this series. You do not need to read Atrophy to understand this fic, however. Here's some general starting info for those who're starting here.
> 
> \- Karkat is unhealthily obese. Immobile and constantly having pains.  
> \- Eridan is Karkat's ex boyfriend.  
> \- Karkat is living with Gamzee.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I realize I need an ending where there's more closure. Consider this alternate canon.

You’re Karkat Vantas. You live with Gamzee Makara because you’re too fat to live on your own anymore. With a gut that reaches the floor and an appetite for a feast of five people, it’s no wonder that you’re so fat. You’re so fat, you’re immobile. You catch yourself thinking about that often. Just how enormously obese you are.

It’s the middle of the night. Even though blackout curtains are strung up against Gamzee’s windows, you can still see a slight sliver of moonlight filter between them, and one has the misfortune of landing right in your eyes. That’s what woke you up- along with your seemingly endless hunger. You’re always so hungry; you rely on Gamzee’s meals, stuffing yourself to bursting multiple times, daily. You know it’s unhealthy, in the back of your mind. You know being too fat to walk is unhealthy.

You think about calling Gamzee, crying out for him until he wakes up and comes to get you. But you don’t want to disappoint him. For the almost two years you lived with him, he’s spent everything on you. He bought you clothes that could fit your growing frame, he bought and made all the food you could ever ask for. He rubs your belly with professional fingers and he comforts you when you’re in pain, all while working at the same time. He’s done everything for you and then some, and you simple decide, between heavy puffs of breath, that you won’t call for him. He’s left you a few pies on the table next to you, anyway. You mindlessly decide that he’s so nice.

Your respirator wheezes beside you, propped up against the side of the couch. You’ve been brought to the couch awhile ago, once you couldn’t stand on your own. It makes him cleaning you easier, you guess. He loves sponge cleaning you everyday. You feel a pang of guilt when you reach for the pies beside you. You know you’ll get messy if you eat them, and you don’t want him to work more by cleaning you right when he wakes up. But your gargantuan belly, which rests on its own cushion, it’s so big, says otherwise. It growls deeply, wobbling, and you rip your way into the pie, your face already becoming a mess of rhubarb filling and crumbs. You toss the pie tin to the side, still too hungry to properly place it back down on the table.

You try to lean over for another pie, but your chest suddenly bursts into agony. You can’t explain why- you took your medicine for it last time you checked, so why is such a simple movement causing you so much pain? You gasp, sweating profusely, and give up your reach for the pie. Your belly still grumbles in abject misery. _You_ grumble in abject misery. You’ve been getting pains like these a lot recently. As your belly swelled and swelled and swelled, your heart only thumped louder and faster, trying to compensate for so much oxygen that needs to be circulated. That’s why you need a respirator, too. You need something to help you circulate everything. The pains have been only getting worse.

For a fleeting second, you panic. Gamzee’s told you, time and time again, that you won’t die. You’ll be fine. You’re just stressed and stressed means more food. But you’re not so sure. Even when you stuff yourself, even when you’ve eaten that pie to try and take the edge off- you still gasp and churn in pain. It still gets harder to move. It only makes your body ache worse and worse and you don’t understand _why._ Is Gamzee lying to you?

The panic mounts. You’re alone in the middle of the night, in the middle of nasty heartburn, and you’re quickly convincing yourself that Gamzee’s doing something wrong to you. You still try to defend him, in your mind- but it all gets shoved down by the pain, which makes your thoughts shift, which makes your fear throb. Ever since you’ve lived with him, you’ve only been getting fatter. And fatter.

And fatter.

You fumble for your phone with sweaty, shaky fingers. You hope to god Eridan hasn’t blocked you, especially not after he visited you and you yelled at him. You needed someone to talk to, and you didn’t want to make Gamzee upset by waking him up. With a panicked gurgle in the back of your throat, you impulsive tap in his number, and bring the phone to your ear.

It rings. One, two, three times. By the fourth ring, you begin to panic further. You should’ve expected to not get an answer- it was around two in the morning. Plus, he probably hates you know. You try to cover your uncomfortable sniffles with a chubby wrist. You can’t help but plead to yourself. “ _Please, please, please…”_

_“Hello?”_

A groggy voice answers the phone, extremely annoyed. Despite it, you nearly jump for joy- well, all it does it make your massive body jiggle and wobble back and forth. You’re too heavy to jump even a centimeter. “Eridan.” You whine, and you can’t stop the stuffiness from making your fearful tears show. You immediately apologize. “I’m sorry.”

_“Wh… Huh? Who is this?”_ A pause, and you hear shuffling on the other side of the call. _“Karkat? Karkat, what the fuck are you callin’ me for?”_

“I’m sorry.” You repeat yourself again, cause you don’t want anyone to be angry. It’s muscle memory at this point. You take in a watery breath, sweating from your brow, and your belly churns painfully. “I’m scared.”

_“Scared? What– Why aren’t you callin’ Gamzee or somethin’?”_

“He’s killing me.” You whine, your quiet voice nearly rising into a keen. You’re trying to whisper, and you don’t know why. Gamzee wouldn’t be all that upset if you were calling someone, right? He wouldn’t be upset. But you can only imagine what would happen if he _did._ “I can’t wake him up. He’s killing me.”

There’s a pause. When Eridan speaks, it’s much softer. _“Karkat… tell me what’s going on.”_

“I want you to get me.” You shake your head, even though you know he can’t see it. You can’t tell him what’s going on. Not yet. You feel sick enough just telling him this. “Please. I don’t wanna die, Eridan. I don’t wanna die. Everything hurts. Please, please, please-”

You stop yourself, and your breath hitches. There’s breathing on the other end. At first you think he hung up on you, but soon enough he responds. _“I’m on my way.”_

“I can’t walk Eridan.”

_“I don’t care. You’re gettin’ out of there. Do you want me on call?”_

“N….No.” He bids you farewell, promising he’d be there soon. Your belly growls in obvious hunger. You know you’re panicking, you know that you’re terrified of dying. But…

You’re just so hungry.

You stuff yourself with pies. He’s left a lot of them for you. With each pie you devour, you only get messier, staining yourself with filling and crust. Your belly’s growls turns from starved to content, to eventually stuffed as you work your way through the pile. You know what you’re doing is bad, but… The back of your mind makes you believe that eating will calm you down.

He arrives when you’re on your last couple pies. You hear a car’s engine turn to a close, and then an eventually knock of the door- quiet as ever. You wish you could walk up there and open the door for him, but you simply can’t. You’d collapse under your own obesity.

Thankfully, Gamzee leaves the door unlocked. With a twist of the handle, Eridan slips inside the pitch dark foyer. When his eyes meet with yours, he instantly makes his way over.

“What are you eating?” He asks, and you whine, burying your face further into your pie. Just one more pie, please, then you can take me home. A small noise comes from Eridan’s nose. You’re too distracted to help him, so he’ll have to get you out all on your own. You already feel like shit.

A strong arm shifts under your massive legs, and you squeak. It rests against the smooth underside of your ass, and with a great huff, Eridan lifts you upwards. You let out a tiny hiccup, letting the pie tin clatter to the ground. You wrap your chubby arms around Eridan’s neck. He’s having clear trouble trying to keep you in his arms, but he manages- swiping up the respirator before he quickly strides out of the house. It isn’t like when you left your own apartment for Gamzee’s place. There isn’t any hesitation and reflection. You just see the outline of the house, your breath heaving, gripping onto Eridan’s jacket as you’re carried away.

You’re out. But you don’t feel any better.

Eridan straps you in the passenger seat. There isn’t an extender, so it cuts into your gut painfully. You heave in pain. “’M sorry.” Eridan huffs as he slips into the driver’s seat. He pulls out of the front yard faster than you can process. “I don’t really have anythin’ to help you just yet. Fuck…”

You watch as you leave Gamzee’s front yard, Eridan’s words lost on you. You don’t exactly know what to say. But eventually, you do. “Thank you. For… letting me come.”

Eridan shrugs. “It’s better for you than that fuckin’ nightmare. It’s no problem. I wanted you out of there anyway.” He shrugs again, but you swear you can see a slight dust of a blush on his angular cheeks. “Just…” He brushes a hand through his slicked back hair. “Get some rest. You look tired.”

You are tired. You’re sweating all over, panicked, fearful for the future. But you’re stuffed, your enormous belly is content, and you don’t actively have to doubt about Gamzee anymore. You know you have a long way to go- a very long one, in fact- to get even slightly better, but… You think you can do it.

You think.

You fall asleep to the sound of Eridan’s breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and criticism is always appreciated! thank you!


End file.
